Page 28 of Twins for the Enemy

She stares at me. I stare back.

After several seconds, I bow my head, gesturing inside.

“Come in, Mr. Todd,” I say. “Welcome to my home.”

Farah’s eyes burn holes into me as we sit in the den and she wraps her brother’s wrist.

“You don’t need to be here,” she says. “I promise to only let Neal steal one or two of your books.”

“I can’t imagine a world where Neal would need a book,” I say. “Besides, I know you’re the thief in the family.”

She looks like she’s ready to respond, but when nothing comes out, I’m left with her only baring her teeth.

“Just ignore him, Rah,” Neal says, nudging his knee against her knee. She forces a smile, returning her focus to his arm.

It reminds me of when I bandaged her burned hand.

It’s a twist of emotions, hitting all at once and tightening in my chest.

With the gentleness of her touch and the way her face seems to glow like the ember in a dying fire—I can’t imagine any man not wanting a piece of her. Men must surround her, hoping she’ll give them something to hold on to.

So, why do I insist on believing the twins are mine?

It could have been a taxi driver as she left the city. It could be a man she sat next to on the bus. It could be a stranger she bumped into at a diner. It could have been a fling, a short romance, or something more permanent that I took her away from.

It doesn’t matter.

If there were another man, he would have tracked her down by now. He would have broken into every home from here to L.A. to find her. He would have been the one she texted instead of her spineless brother.

My shoulders tense. If another man comes, I’ll make him sorry he did. Nobody can take care of her like I can.

The twins, I mean.

Farah doesn’t seem to know what to do with the last of the bandage wrap, and I’m not exactly in the mood to help Neal.

My phone vibrates. I glance down at the notification.

“Neal’s taxi is here,” I say, standing up. “I assume his wrist is healthy enough to sit in the back of a car?”

Farah glares at me. “It’d be better if I could keep an eye on it.”

“He can send you a photo.”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“Steal another one.” I indicate toward the foyer. “We don’t want to keep the driver waiting.”

Neal stands up. “It’s fine, Farah. I should be getting back to my apartment anyway.”

He eyes me as he steps around my frame. Farah’s glare is far more lethal.

“What the hell is your problem?” she hisses as she passes me, but she doesn’t wait for my answer as she walks with her brother to the foyer.

I could give her an answer, but it wouldn’t matter to her. Neal is someone who Farah would sacrifice everything for, and he would gladly accept that sacrifice. He’s a vampire, pretending to be a victim of his ownbloodlust.

I watch the two of them at the door. Neal puts his hands on her shoulders—insisting that she stay inside while he walks to the taxi. A polite vampire, but civility is a low bar.

She opens the door for him. They hug. He steps out. She watches him for a few seconds before closing the door.

---